Abyss System The Rise of the Lord-Chapter 58 peace

The sun rose slowly.

The dim light of Ruya and Siamon retreated, and a golden hue began spreading from the edge of the sky. The reddish glow slowly slid over the ruined village. Places that had appeared terrifying in the night now seemed ordinary—but this ordinariness was a lie.

The streets were still silent. The air was still cold, yet that strange pressure in the peace could be felt.

The bodies were in the same places.

Only the colors had changed—the darkness had been replaced by sunlight, and the blood was no longer red, having taken on a dull brown hue. The open doors of the houses did not move even without wind, as if this place itself had forgotten how to breathe.

Zaber slowly stood up. When he stepped on the dry ground, small stones crunched under his feet. He walked quietly, with neither haste nor hesitation in his steps.

His clothes were covered in dried blood, traces of last night’s torment remained on his body. But his face—was strangely calm.

He stopped.

His eyes fell on a well at the edge of a yard. The chain of the wooden bucket by the well was rusted, but the water was still clear.

The sunlight broke on the water’s surface, as if splitting into small golden fragments. Zaber bent down and stared into the water.

He saw his reflection in the water.

Bloodshot eyes, traces of dried and flaking blood, but the gaze—cold. Deep. As if looking into the emptiness he himself had created.

Zaber stared at this reflection for a while.

"Interesting..." he said inside. "If someone saw me now... they would only see the result."

He dipped his hand into the water.

The water was cold, but this coldness felt pleasant. He washed his face. The dried blood mixed with the water and flowed downward, disappearing without a trace. He washed again. Again. As if washing not his face, but the night, those numb hours.

He stopped and took a deep breath.

"If you show everyone only the result..." he thought. "They will think you are talented."

He looked at the water’s surface once more:

"If they see the process... they will look for excuses. If they see the fear... they will call it weakness."

Zaber drank from the water. The cold water flowed down his throat, and he felt a calm pass through him.

"I will do it that way," he said in a low voice. "Only the result."

He stood up.

The sun had now fully risen. Its rays illuminated Zaber from behind, stretching his shadow forward. This shadow stretched across the village, as if walking with him.

Zaber looked at the village one last time. "I think I need to change my clothes..." he said in the silence, in a tone similar to his own. "I wonder if there is something suitable here."

He felt no remorse for what he had done.

Zaber began checking the houses. Bodies, homes, half-open chests... he quietly passed by all of them, paying attention only to what he needed. Not money, weapons, or food—clothes.

Beside the body of a young man lay clean but slightly dusty gray-sleeved clothes and trousers with slightly loose threads.

Zaber calmly turned the young man over and began putting on his clothes. During the dressing process, he showed no emotion. As if this was an ordinary, necessary action.

A few minutes later, he wore simple but orderly clothes—sleeved gray garments and threaded trousers. He looked at his hair. His hair was stiff, stuck together with blood in places.

Zaber found a large, elongated tub from one house. Then he went to the well. He dropped the bucket into the water, filled it, pulled it out, and poured it into the tub.

He repeated this twenty-five, perhaps thirty times. Each time the water spilled from the bucket glistened in the sunlight, creating small waves inside the tub.

The day had warmed considerably. It was nearly noon.

Zaber wanted to wash before his servants returned.

He entered a hut, undressed, and slowly stepped into the water in the tub. The cold water struck his body, making him fully alert. He took a deep breath, small waves forming on the water’s surface illuminated his face.

Zaber ran his hand through his hair backward. His hair was long and smooth, now flowing freely under the water. He slowly washed the crusted blood traces from his hair, and they disappeared with the water.

After a moment, his white hair began to gleam.

Zaber fell silent for a moment. He sat in silence, looking at the water’s surface.

Now he was no longer a warrior or a predator. He was simply a calm mind in a cleansed body.

But this calm would not last long.

Zaber dressed and went outside. The sun was now almost directly overhead. Its rays illuminated Zaber directly, his wet hair beginning to dry slowly. His whitened hair fell evenly and orderly to his shoulders.

A light breeze blew, gently stirring his hair, sunlight sparkling between the strands. Zaber brought out an ordinary wooden chair from somewhere, placed it in an open spot, and sat leaning against it. He closed his eyes. His body seemed to rest in the sun.

He sat in this state for nearly two hours. Time passed unnoticed.

Then, footsteps were heard from afar.

His servants were returning.

They stopped in front of the village. For a moment, everything was silent. Before their eyes—devastation. Bodies lying in the streets. Death everywhere.

They froze in shock.

Then suddenly they ran inside. Luna dropped her bag to the ground and looked around frantically. They began checking the houses. Kargal and Gobuto also scattered in different directions. Wherever they looked—bodies.

After a while, the three gathered again in the village center.

Luna said with worry on her face, looking around: "What happened here...? They are just... dead."

Kargal’s face grew serious. He carefully examined the surrounding bodies and said: "This is not ordinary. They have no physical wounds... but dead. We need to find Master."

At that moment, Gobuto’s voice was heard: "This way!"

Luna and Kargal ran toward the voice.

Seeing Zaber sitting cleanly dressed, washed, eyes closed resting in the sun, they stopped for a moment. He sat calmly in his chair. As if nothing had happened here.

A single thought circled in their minds. Could it be... Master has also perished?

The three stopped a few steps away from Zaber.

Zaber said in a low voice without opening his eyes: "Do not make noise."

They flinched. Letting out a light breath, they looked at each other.

Kargal took a step forward: "Master... what happened in this village?"

Zaber opened one eye. His gaze was cold, emotionless. "Kargal," he said slowly. "Is this how you speak to your master?"

He paused a bit and continued: "Seeing you standing upright offends me."

Kargal immediately knelt on the ground. Luna and Gobuto also bowed without extra words.

Kargal said with worry: "Master... we have returned."

Zaber opened his second eye as well, straightened his posture. "Good," he said in a calm tone.

He gestured with his hand to the side: "There is money in a bag over there. I do not know how much. Take what you need from the village later. Then prepare food."

Kargal raised his head: "Yes, Master."

Zaber leaned back in his chair again. "You said something about the village," he said in an indifferent tone. "I killed them."

With those words, he threw his head back and closed his eyes again.

Kargal looked around, then examined Zaber again. He said nothing.

Zaber thought inside: I feel sleepy... last night was heavy. But washing and resting—this is relief.

Kargal took the money from the place Zaber indicated and gave it to Luna. Luna put it in her bag. Then they began checking the houses again.

Luna headed to the kitchen and began preparing food.

Under the sun, Zaber sat silently. His eyes closed. But he was awake.

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